


Critical Roles (and other nerdy things)

by C-chan (1001paperboxes)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Characters play D&D, Gen, M/M, Minor Combeferre/Courfeyrac, Minor Enjolras/Grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 10:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13144584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/pseuds/C-chan
Summary: It starts out, oddly enough, as a way to improve Grantaire's math grades. It becomes a vehicle for making friends that perhaps will last a lifetime (or at least until graduation).





	Critical Roles (and other nerdy things)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [letosatie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/letosatie/gifts).



The first time Grantaire met Combeferre, he had been six years old and in awe that there was another kid who knew how to spell both _antidisestablishmentarianism_ and _supercalifragilisticexpialidocious_. Becoming best friends was the only possible course of action. 

Grantaire's recollection of the ensuing conversation went as follows:

"Hey! I like big words too! Wanna be best friends?"

"Okay."

And thus, the most vital friendship of Grantaire's life was born.

* * *

The older they were, the more confused people seemed to be that Grantaire and Combeferre were friends.

It made more sense when they were younger: they were both bright kids with similar interests after all. They both watched the same programs on Saturday mornings, and liked playing board games, and even traded comic books back and forth. But then puberty hit, and with it Grantaire's depression and a multitude of self-discoveries. 

By the time they were in high school, they seemed like they belonged in two different worlds: Grantaire with the punk stoner crowd, Combeferre with whatever group was in charge of shelving books in the library. Grantaire's grades had started slipping: a mix of mental health and plateauing in math, though his wit was shaper than anything. But nothing really changed with the Saturday morning cartoons, or board games, or comic books. In fact, it was while they were doing their weekly issue exchange that Combeferre offered to tutor him for the first time.

Grantaire couldn't quite remember how math tutoring turned into weekly D&D sessions. It probably started out as practical math application, but grew into the center of their time. And yeah, maybe it was unusual for most of their campaigns to be one-on-one, but it made for good practice when the Portal of Unending Mysteries could only find a new destination while solving for the value of x.

* * *

Combeferre was definitely a sorcerer or wizard.

After all, his knowledge ran deep, and his powers were vast. The only question was, did the magic and the base of his prowess come from books, or from something innate within him?

It was hard even for Grantaire to puzzle out that answer.

* * *

The first people ever to join them were another pair as unlikely as themselves.

In fact, Grantaire was fairly sure they were another pair that had come through the school system together, and had found themselves to be inseparable.

What was the most odd is that he and Combeferre both knew them from different circles: Grantaire did singer-songwriter things with Jehan and MMA with Bahorel, and while he didn't quite know where Combeferre knew them from, there were definitely stories. 

It was when all four ended up in Model UN together that they decided that enough was enough: they needed to actually be friends and see each other outside of their various commitments. Since all four had experience roleplaying, starting a campaign just seemed natural.

Finding mutually agreeable times was difficult, but that hardly mattered. Half the fun was seeing what sorts of crazy twists and turns they'd come up with after a month or two of inactivity. And while outsider might see two odd couples making an odder-still foursome, Grantaire just saw a great time with people he loved.

* * *

Bahorel was a barbarian, no question about it. His tendency to fight had landed him in trouble more times than he could count, but nobody could deny that he was generally defending someone or something worthwhile. He just generally found that words were a lot slower and less satisfying at solving a situation than punching someone in the face.

Jehan's dreamy mysticism was hard to place until he saw him in a garden. That guy had the greenest thumb Grantaire had ever seen! And that's when it all became clear: Jehan was most definitely a druid. The mix of offense and defence in druidic magic suited him well, and being attached to nature still left him clear to sing to whatever deity would listen.

* * *

Grantaire was excited when a D&D club was announced. He would probably have dragged Combeferre to the first meeting if he hadn't decided to come of his own volition.

The two running the games were another couple, and their actions made it impossible to discern the relationship between them. (Were they friends? Dating? Certainly they weren't related by blood, but he'd seen some pretty close-knit adopted families before.)

It was the one with hair that explained that the one without had alopecia, and then spent an entire lunch hour rattling off both the meaning of the disorder and various facts about hair loss and ways in which modern medicine was trying to correct it.

And really, that was the nature of those two. They were joined at the hip and tended to explain everything for each other, throwing in little compliments that walked the thin line between playful and flirty.

Sometimes, Grantaire was jealous that his own relationship with Combeferre wasn't quite like this. But Combeferre was still awesome, and Joly and Bossuet were always willing to enfold others in their playful sort of love. So really, everything was great just as it was.

* * *

The best way to describe Joly and Bossuet were to use a set of characters that they themselves had created: a cleric and monk team serving the goddess of luck.

Bussuet's monk wasn't actually sure the extent of his blessings. Borrowing equally from Eastern and Western traditions, chose to serve the goddess with his fists, which ended up missing as often as not. Joly's cleric spent as much time patching him up as anything else. And maybe he'd never be top in damage dealt, but he was proud of his accomplishments just the same.

* * *

The incorporation of math into their normal sessions meant that when things went bad, they could really go bad.

One night, he was stuck on a puzzle for an hour, only to find out that it was an error in simple arithmetic that had kept him from moving forward. Another night, all the puzzles had been based on quadratics, and Grantaire had gotten so frustrated that he'd left the table yelling and crying. Combeferre had followed him and given the touch and comfort he'd needed to feel better, and they'd gone over it a different way a few days later.

Still, it had never occured to Grantaire that these sessions could be used for things other than math until Feuilly joined the D&D club.

Feuilly's voice had an accent, something eastern European, but it made him all the more interesting to listen to as he gave impromptu speeches to kings and commoners alike as they requested and offered aid. It was sometime later that the boy announced, cheeks flushed, that he'd improved his command on English a lot through roleplaying.

He was using the same technique to help others, now, running campaigns for ESL children and teens, along with another local boy. Combeferre seemed fascinated, and Feuilly quickly invited him along to their next drop-in game day.

* * *

Feuilly was an entirely different kind of cleric than Joly.

Joly's deity was a trickster, his healing focussed largely on his friend.

Feuilly, on the other hand, was wrapped up in knowledge and the idea of making things better for all. And yeah, Grantaire had only known Feuilly for a short amount of time, but he was already convinced that the guy would save the world one person at a time, if only he had the resources with which to do it.

* * *

Romance had always been a hit and miss part of the game.

The dice didn't always like his smooth talking, leading to at least once where an attempt at flirtation had turned into a life-or-death situation. Even brothels weren't sure signs of romantic or sexual success: Combeferre included checks, balances, and BEDMAS to make those interesting encounters in their own right. Grantaire had a small compendium of fan-made rules for everything from blowjob dexterity to vaginal circumference. Combeferre had gotten back at him for suggesting the implementation of one or two of his mods by having him roll for penis size in inches with a D4.

Grantaire never stopped to think that real-life romance could get in the way with the game.

The first time after attending one of Feuilly's sessions, Combeferre had come home talking about someone he'd met there. It wasn't a player or even Feuilly's partner Marius. Apparently the guy was Marius' roommate, who'd come to drop Marius off and ended up staying around to flirt with Combeferre.

They already had plans for a proper date, and while Combeferre tried to promise that nothing would get in the way of their friendships or weekly sessions, Grantaire suddenly found himself worried that his days with Combeferre were numbered.

* * *

Grantaire wanted to make Courfeyrac some sort of incubus, but Combeferre insisted otherwise.

The man was a bard-paladin multitasker with a light tongue and a fiery sense of justice.

And from the stories Combeferre had already shared, it was becoming clear that the fire was literal.

* * *

Sometimes, in Grantaire's more philosophical moments, he'd wonder what if people had to roll for stats before they were born.

If so, he was sorry for whomever it was that had rolled his. The distribution wasn't bad, all told, but the amount of areas that were probably ranked neutral or worse made him pretty sure that Joly and Bossuet's goddess of luck had not blessed his stats dice at all.

On the other hand, there were people like Enjolras.

Enjolras had only just moved into the area the summer before senior year, and already was insanely popular by Christmastime.

Enjolras looked like some sort of statue of Apollo, if more appropriately clothed. His voice was soft but steadfast and sure, and he always seemed to speak with passion and conviction. The guy could probably instruct the entire graduating class to jump of a cliff and ninety percent would follow him to their death. But Enjolras would never do such a thing. He was smart, well-read, and surprisingly nice, if distant.

Maybe it didn't matter if Grantaire wouldn't make him fall to his death. He was doing a fine enough job of falling for Enjolras all on his own.

* * *

From the very first time Grantaire set eyes on Enjolras, there was no doubt in his mind: Enjolras was the knight on a white steed riding in the name of justice and righteousness. He'd bring down armies with the weight of a divine smite, and heal the needy with the laying on of hands.

Yes, Enjolras was the very picture of a paladin.

* * *

As hard as it was to get four together for a campaign, nine was insane. Not only did it make for a large party, but juggling time commitments made it a feat of mental acrobatics to arrange.

Finally, a week into Christmas break, they managed a day when everyone could meet up and play.

Grantaire wasn't sure what the best part of it was. Maybe it was everyone putting on pajamas and exchanging presents, or watching Enjolras roll his very first character (an elven paladin that Grantaire may have helped suggest). Or perhaps it was the way they'd cracked Combeferre's alphanumeric code in under a minute, or how they defeated an army of bugbears, but managed to tame one to be Jehan's steed. Or maybe it was the way they recounted all their favourite moments after, or how they all were excited to do it all again.

Maybe it was different from the tiny games he was used to, but Grantaire could get used to the energy of everyone together. They made a pretty good party, after all.

* * *

As for what Grantaire himself was, he'd never been to quite pin it down.

Maybe he was a rogue, meant for slinking in the underbelly and landing the kills when others least expected it. Or maybe he was an oathbreaker who had lost his religion somewhere down the line. Maybe he was a spellcaster—a warlock, perhaps—with his friends as the power behind his abilities.

The possibilities were too endless. Grantaire, it seemed, contained multitudes.

* * *

Grantaire wasn't quite sure what would happen going forward: if the weekly tutor-games would remain an ongoing thing, or if they were doomed to be replaced by the massive campaign that was building more and more excitement by the hour, if the IMs exchanged were any indication. 

Maybe both were doomed anyway, what with graduation lurking around the corner.

But for now, he'd take what he could: the friendships he'd formed (even with Courfeyrac, who turned out to be every bit as charming as Combeferre had described) and the lessons he'd learned (including how to multiply fractions while distracting a swarm of harpies.)

It was amazing what you could do with a good DM and an equally good game. He was glad that Combeferre was always by his side to provide both.


End file.
